DW as the Moulin Rouge
by fallfairy13
Summary: First story I ever written so please do send comments on how you felt about it. London 1899, John Smith is looking for his place in Bohemian Revolution, and he might find it in a way most people don't expect. In the arms of a pink and yellow courtesan. Might change ratings, not sure


This story was inspired by Lady Time lord's story the TARDIS love melody. I don't own the Moulin Rouge or Doctor Who. This story is the Moulin Rouge set as Doctor Who. With Torchwood as the Moulin Rouge Warning I just started watching DW and have only seen seasons 1-3, so I'm sorry if this story is awful

 **London, 1900**

 _ **The greatest thing you will ever know is just to love and be loved in return.**_

 _ **Torchwood. A nightclub. A dance hall and a bordello…ruled over by Jack Harkness, kingdom of night time pleasures. Where the rich and powerful came to play with the young and beautiful creatures of the underworld .The most beautiful of all these, was the woman I… Rose Tyler, a courtesan, she sold her love to men. They called her the "Bad Wolf," and she was the star of the Torchwood. The woman I loved … is… gone.**_

 _ **I first came to London, one year ago.**_

 _ **It was 1899, the summer of love. I knew nothing of Torchwood, Jack Harkness or Rose. The whole world has been swept up in the Boeheim revolution, and I had travelled from very far places to be a part of it. Near London is the village of Powell. It was not as my father had said. "**_ A village of sin!" He yelled. **But the center of the Boeheim world. Writers, painters, musicians. They were known as the "children of the revolution." Yes, I had come to live a penniless existence. I had come to write about truth, beauty, freedom and that which I believed in above all else, -love. "** Always this ridiculous obsession with love!" my father often screamed. **There was only one problem - I had never been in love!**

 **Luckily at that very moment an unconscious Argentinean fell through my roof.** The young man had just set up his typewriter on his desk. John Smith had begun to ponder on what he should write, next thing he knew, CRASH. A sleeping man just fell though the floor and was suspended in his room. **He was quickly joined by a dwarf dressed as a nun.** While John stared in astonishment at the man, a person slammed the door open. It was an oddly dressed dwarf who began to speak with a funny accent. " How do you do?" "My name is Henri Marie Raymond Toulouse-Lautrec Monfa."He finished while twirling a cane in his hands. As the strange man began to apologize for the intrusion John tried to make sense of the situation but all that came out was "What?" in a few octaves higher than his regular voice." We were just upstairs rehearsing for a play." he explained while trying to get the man down. Again all he could say was "What?" . **A play, something very modern something called "Spectacular Spectacular".** "And it is set in Switzerland" he chirped. **Unfortunately the unconscious Argentinian suffered form a dieses called narcolepsy.** "One moment he is fine the next he is asleep." The dwarf laughed, John glanced between the both of them as the Argentinean who continued to snore. Upstairs 3 equally oddly dressed men were staring down the hole where the man fell down. "How is he? Oh wonderful, now the narcoleptic Argentinean is now unconscious. Therefore the scenario will not be finished in time to present to the financer tomorrow." the man who was in the middle of the trio upstairs. Another joined him saying "He's right, Toulouse. I still have to finish the music." Toulouse answered reassuringly "We will just find someone else to read the part." as he smiled up the ceiling. But the man upstairs was unconvinced as he exclaimed" Where in heavens name are we going to find someone to read the part of the young, sensitive Swiss poet/goat herder?"

" **Before I knew it, I was upstairs, standing in for the Argentinean.** John took his place on the ladder where John was told to stand on and read the part. And Toulouse began to sing the first verses of the play. The words came out in pitchy sounds "The hills animate with the euphonious symphonies of descant" he sang while creaking and crashing of instruments played behind him. The man who seemed to be the director stared yelling" Oh stop, stop! Stop that insurable droning; it is drowning out my words! Can't you just stick to a little bit of decorative piano?" **There seemed to be an artistic difference between Audrey's lyrics and Satie's songs.** As all the men began to argue over the lines John tried to get their attention because he had an idea for the lyrics. Finally John just sang out the line loud and clear so they could hopefully hear it. "The hills are alive with the sound of music!" he sang in his best voice. They all quieted down, just as the Argentean who was sleeping on the bed in the corner suddenly woke up and exclaimed" The hills are alive with the sound of music, I love it!" Satie immediately agreed claiming it fit perfectly with music. As John sang more ideas Toulouse suggested that he should help write the play. "Audrey, you two should write the show together!" **But Toulouse's suggestion was not what Audrey wanted to hear. "** Good bye!" Audrey yelled as he slammed the door to leave.

"Here is to your first job in London." Said Toulouse, as he raised a glass with green liquid in it. But Satie began to worry. "Toulouse, Harkness will never agree. No offense but have you written anything like this before?" "No" John began to answer but was interrupted by the Argentinean yelling loudly. "Ah this boy has talent, nothing funny just like talent." As the men began to talk, John listened intently. "See Satie, with John we can write the truly bohemian revolutionary show we have always dreamed of." Toulouse said with a twinkle in his eye. "But how will we convince Harkness?" **But Toulouse had a plan, "** Rose" they all whispered. **They would dress me up in the Argentinean's best pinstripe suit and pass me off as a famous writer. Once Rose heard my modern poetry, she would be astounded and insist to Harkness I write 'Spectacular'. The only problem was I kept hearing my father's voice in my head!** "You'll end up wasting your life at Torchwood with a can-can dancer!" With all the sudden stress and pressure John yelled "No, I can't write the show for Torchwood!" Running to the ladder that was in hole of the floor. With surprised faces they asked why not. "I don't even know if I am a true bohemian revolutionary. "John stuttered back "Do you believe in beauty, freedom, and truth?" They each asked. John replied with a shaking yes. "Love?" "Love, above all things I believe in love. Love is like is a many splendored thing. All you need is love." John said confidently for the first time. The bohemians began to laugh happily" See you can't fool us, you are the voice of the children of the revolution!" "We can't be fooled!" They pulled John off the ladder. Toulouse began to pour bright green liquor into many glasses "Let's drink to the new writer of the world's first bohemian show!" He shouted as the group of men began to laugh and hug John out of excitement. **It was the perfect plan. I was to audition for Rose, and I would taste my first glass of … Absinthe.** After John and the bohemians got over the 'magical' effects of the absinthe they got ready to go. John pulled on the pinstriped suit the Argentinean was loaning him, to his surprise it fit perfectly. He put his favorite blue pen in the jacket pocket while running his hand thru his naturally spiky and messy hair a bit. **We were off to Torchwood. And I was to perform my poetry for Rose.**


End file.
